Piece. Of. Piss.

As anyone knows with kids, every day is different. I suppose everyday is different for people without kids too. Some days things go relatively smoothly and others you wonder how you’ve managed to get through the day without something drastic happening to one of your children or going totally blind mad yourself.

An RAC guy once told me he doesn’t know why anyone would want children, you spend your whole time, 24hours a day, just preventing them from killing themselves. I could actually see his point, you have to feed and water them to stop them from dying and the rest of the time stop them from chucking themselves from extreme heights, playing with blades or drinking bleach. I can vouch however that despite this they are worth it.

Our boys are very early risers. You get a 6am lie in if you’re lucky, sometimes if you’re extra lucky they wake before 5am. One morning Big T and Middle F woke at 4.30am. Martin got in bed with Middle F whilst I sat on the chair beside, both trying to get him back to sleep. Big T was in the top bunk and Little B was fast asleep in the middle of a double bed all on his own. Living. The. Dream.

It was all very quiet and I was about to creep out when Big T suddenly blasted out “Oo E, Oo ah ah, ting tang walla walla bing bang” at the top of his lungs. Looks like the day had started.

Martin left for work at 7 and the general chaos of the school run prep began. Needed to put a bit of cream on Middle F’s bum which was accompanied by a flabbergasted Big T saying “Oh my god I can’t believe that you are actually touching his Butthole!!” (Thank you ‘Dragons Riders of Berk’ for introducing the word ‘butt’ to my children) I explained that it was to help a sore bum and that I did the same for him when he was little. He looked bemused and just said “Can I poke his ball bag?”

Every other line from me that morning was “Not appropriate.”

Middle F and Big T enjoyed running around the living room naked calling out ‘Bum bum’ and ‘Shake your willy’ repeatedly. This was followed up by my “Not appropriate!” as I was grabbing their clothes from upstairs.

The duo then began to get dressed whilst taking it in turns to bend over and imitate fart noises. “Not appropriate!”

Got Little B dressed and was making head way with the other two as Middle F used alternate hands to slap his crotch, much like a gorilla beating it’s chest, whilst running around in circles calling out “Willy! Willy! Willy!”

“Not appropriate!”

Nearly all ready to leave the house, buggy loaded, Little B in his side holding a mass protest because he hates the school run. Lost Big T. Find him in the bathroom with his toothbrush marvelling at how he is able to make the toothpaste go all the way around the head of the brush, a whole 360 degrees, in one go. I agreed it was quite impressive.

Now lost Middle F. He is in the kitchen behind the easel squeezing out a big dump into his nappy. Great, I have lots of time for this. I get Middle F’s bum changed, cue all ‘touching butt’ comments again.

Trying to get everything/one out the door and find Big T collecting boxes and plastic from the recycling pile. When asked what he was doing he replied that he was just gathering bits to make a Chinese train. Yes, yes, you’re right. We most certainly have time to make a Chinese train out of scrap (what the hell is a Chinese train a way??)

Ok all dressed and ready to roll, let’s get this show on the road…Middle F is now sitting in the living room, having removed his coat and shoes, playing with Peppa Pig. I can only see one shoe. Where the hell is the other god damn shoe??? Shoes found and back on and Middle F is ‘placed’ outside.

Load Big T’s stuff onto the buggy and realise that Middle F has legged it again. See a flash of colour as he makes a bid for freedom across the drive whilst laughing his head off in delight and then stacks it in a pile of water and mud. We finally get going as he says “I not happy now.”

And we’re off, narrowly missing the frequent piles of dog turd on the way, could really do without getting that involved now too. However it did prompt a conversation about how dogs and cats poo anywhere but humans don’t and we must only use the toilet. Phew. Thank god that is recognised by all.

Arrive at school, cool as a cucumber.

End of the day comes and the school/nursery pick up begins. Good day had by all, Middle F’s highlight was taking in his body book and showing his friends his favourite page with the poo on it. It’s good to stick to what you know I guess.

Big T announces that he needs a wee. Thank GOD for the portable pee bottle that we always carry in the car. As I strap Middle F into his seat Big T grabs the bottle and goes about his business. I instantly see a rapid fountain spraying all over the car followed by cries of “Agghhhhhh mum! I can’t get it in! It’s going everywhere! Oh no I’m so sorry!”

It all happened so quickly. I looked bleakly  at the crime scene in front of me. Piss on the floor. Piss on the seat. Piss all over Big T’s material lunch box and school book bag (luckily the laminated maths game was waterproof and took the brunt, shielding all the books and reading diary). And worst of all, piss all over Big T’s recorder. What a treat next time he root-a-toots a merry tune on that. Fresh.

Poor chap looked mortified, I told him not to worry and then in unison we both said “Accidents happen” leading me to believe I’ve said that a good number of times.

Nevermind, who said having 3 kids was chaotic? Piece. Of. Piss.



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